


Nothing Like a Dame

by Dawnwind



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-30
Updated: 2011-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-24 05:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky and Hutch are in an amateur production of South Pacific but Hutch has a hard time keeping his mind on his lines--and his leading lady.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Like a Dame

Adjusting the folds of the military issue khaki uniform shirt to fit smoothly across his chest, Ken Hutchinson looked at himself in the mirror and saw his father staring back at him. The proud, serious Marine pilot standing in front of his plane oozing confidence. Exactly the opposite of what he was feeling at that particular moment.

Closing his eyes, Hutch hummed a few bars from the appropriate song, and opened them again to see his character — Lt. Joe Cable.

Oh, God he was going to puke.

And he was only trying on the costume!

Why had he ever agreed to this horrible idea? How had he auditioned and won the role? It wasn't like he could really act!

It was all Starsky's fault. That insouciant grin, flirtatious eyes — that way he had of wrapping Hutch around his finger to get him to do whatever Starsky wanted. Starsky had conned him into this — that was it.

"I think that fits great, Ken," Charlotte, the head costumer, said with a nod. "You look fantastic. Once I dig through the crap in the back of the shop I'm sure I'll find the cap that goes with the uniform, and we'll be all set."

"This is the only costume I have to wear, right?" Hutch asked, dreading the possibility of having to change quickly between songs or — heaven help him — a few inches off stage as his girlfriend Melanie had done in her last production _Cabaret_.

"Yes, you're one of the lucky ones. Most of the men — except your goofy friend Dave, don't change at all. And of course, Melanie has a slew of costumes." Charlotte stabbed a pencil through her already untidy graying bun. "Take that off and hang it on the rack over there."

Hustling back into the dressing room to change, Hutch didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the assessment that he was one of the lucky ones. The show was going up, as they said in the theatre parlance, next Friday, and Hutch still wanted to wring his partner's neck for coaxing him to audition.

Still, it had all been worth it when the haunted look left Starsky's blue eyes. When he'd started to sing songs from _South Pacific_ in the Torino as they were cruising their beat.

In truth, though, Hutch was beginning to hate the familiar lyrics because of the sick feeling that would curl in his belly every time he thought about belting out "You've Got to Be Carefully Taught" in front of an audience.

Starsky seemed to have no compunctions. He had leaped effortlessly into the role of conniving hustler Luther Billis as if it were written for him. Hutch loved watching his partner. Starsky was pure grace on stage, his natural charm shining to every corner of the auditorium. Hutch settled into a velvet upholstered seat to watch the Bay City Amateur Players rehearse, immediately finding Starsky among the crowd of men dancing on the stage in front of the unfinished set.

"C'mon guys!" Director Tim Vorhays shouted at the faux sailors, stopping their chorus mid-song. "You sound like a bunch of cats caterwauling on the back fence! This is the Seabees' big number--and it's supposed to be lyrical! Jonesy, Mullins and Montoya, move over more stage left. You guys around the laundry — look like you've actually done this once before, and Dave, remember what key your solo is in this time!"

"Wax in my ear, Tim," Starsky called out with a smirk, screwing a finger in his ear. "Won't happen again. It's just when those pretty ladies jog through, I lose all ability to think."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Melanie teased, waggling her hips before disappearing into the wings for her cue.

Hutch laughed, relaxing after the harrowing experience of suiting up as Lt. Cable. Somehow the costume had made the whole thing frighteningly real. This was actually going to happen, in one week. He was going to act on stage, for six whole performances!

There was no way he could pull this off. What was surely shaping up into a debacle wasn't Starsky's fault at all, but could be laid squarely at Melanie's feet. She was the one who'd encouraged Starsky to get out, meet people instead of moping around at home.

Hutch had never expected Starsky to rebound so soon after Terry's death. Her shooting had been such a tragedy that he'd assumed Starsky would need a long time to recover. Auditioning for a musical was such a complete departure from their usual routine that it had seemed the perfect cure for Starsky's lingering malaise. Hutch hadn't considered a role for himself, but after Vorhays had plucked him out of his comfortable seat in the audience and proclaimed him the perfect Lt. Cable, Hutch hadn't been able to refuse.

Resilient, ever-bouncy Starsky was back, and the exuberant role of Seabee Billis had made it happen. That and the friendly attentions of one of the actresses in the nurse chorus, Annie Vorhays, the director's sister.

Although Hutch was terrified to portray the production's second leading man, he'd promised Starsky that they'd both be in the show together. No way would he do anything to dim the happiness in those blue eyes.

"There is nothing like a dame!" the male chorus boomed out, their voices twining in multi-part harmony. "Nothing you can name that is anything like a dame!"

Hutch watched as the nurses pranced on, flashing their bright smiles toward the audience —which today only consisted of himself, Tim and the assistant director Mickey. He switched his attention back to Starsky.

Starsky glowed. There was no other word for it. He swaggered over to the tiny woman playing Bloody Mary, cheerfully trying to swindle her out of her livelihood by claiming that his men could make the grass skirts better than she could, and flirted shamelessly with Melanie in the role of Nellie.

It was in the script, but Hutch had a sudden flash of irrational jealousy.

Where the hell had that come from? He hadn't been dating Melanie for that long. She was fun, cheerleader pretty, and, on nights when Hutch was feeling uncharitable, reminded him of his sister Karen. Not that there was anything wrong with his sister, it was just that dating a woman who looked like her was...

Hutch shook himself to dispel such disturbing thoughts and refocused on Starsky who was standing in the center of the group, gesturing wildly and singing his heart out.

"There are no books like a dame, and nothin' looks like a dame..." The men's voices blended seamlessly, proving that this number would be a crowd-pleasing opener to one hell of a show. "Nothing acts like a dame, or attracts like a dame, there ain't a thing that's wrong with any man here..."

Hutch barely heard the words anymore, he was concentrating so hard on every nuance of Starsky's performance. The cant of his head, a _je ne sais quoi_ that was unquenchable. Starsky could easily steal the show from every other actor on the stage.

"Ken! Ken!" Mickey called urgently.

Coming out of his reverie, Hutch realized he was being summoned onstage, and scrambled out of his seat, nearly sprawling headlong into the aisle in his haste.

"Blondie, I swear you could trip on an invisible crack in the sidewalk." Starsky dropped down on the edge of the stage to snag a drink of water from a cluster of bottles kept there, each with an actor's name on it. The other Seabees hunkered down in the first rows of the auditorium, waiting for their next turn on the boards.

"That one's mine," Hutch reminded, plucking the bottle marked Ken from his partner's hand and drinking from the opening where Starsky's mouth had just been.

"Hey!" Starsky pouted.

"Dave, can we take time from your busy social calendar to reblock this next part?" Tim came up beside Hutch. "I want to show off Froggie's great painting of Bali Hai to better advantage." He pointed at new backdrop representing the far-off mysterious paradise.

"Looks kinda like Catalina on a smoggy night," Starsky said sotto voce.

Hutch grinned, glancing over Tim's head at his best friend. Starsky was absolutely right, the painting had a certain plebian ordinariness that didn't evoke fanciful longing for a special island of dreams.

"Great job, Froggie!" Melanie yelled at the shy prop master who refused to come out of his own special lair, the build shop.

"Ken, stand up close to Dave so that you both won't have your backs to the audience when Bloody Mary is giving you the spiel," Tim directed. "Naw, better yet, Ken, stand upstage of Dave."

Starsky chortled, switching positions with Hutch, the curve of his ass brushing Hutch's groin. Hutch sucked in a strangled breath, feeling the first signs of a major boner.

 _Not in front of half the cast._

The idea of throwing a woody in full view of a crowd stopped the erection in its tracks, but Hutch was so momentarily stunned that he forgot his line.

"Bali Hai, what's that mean?" Mickey whispered, reading from the script.

Hutch repeated the words, getting through the scene without stumbling over his feet again or embarrassing himself more than he already was. He was relieved when Tim called for a dinner break before they ran the show straight through starting at 7 pm.

"You daydreaming, Hutch?" Starsky punched him in the arm. "I think you really were on Bali Hai back there."

"I — uh --," Hutch stammered in confusion. How could he admit that he was thinking -- well -- those kind of thoughts about Starsky? That this wasn't the first time, either. That nothing Melanie did held a candle to Starsky up there, vibrant and incredible? "Starsk, did you ever think that something you'd done was a colossal mistake?"

"Oh, don't start that again," Starsky groaned, bending over to tie the laces on one bright blue sneaker. "The dress rehearsal's on Monday, Hutch, you can't drop out now."

"No, I mean..." Hutch took in the eye-popping sight of Starsky's phenomenal butt displayed to such advantage, and turned away, almost bumping into Melanie.

"I wondered where you guys had gotten to!" she said brightly. "A bunch of the cast is headed over to Zim's for burgers. You want to go with, or do you have something more..." She sidled up against Hutch, tucking proprietary fingers just inside the band of his button down shirt. "Romantic in mind?"

Hutch, conflicted, plastered on a gracious smile. There was no reason to hurt her feelings. Melanie was a nice girl. Who wouldn't be attracted by her toothpaste-commercial-worthy smile, those pert dimples and fluff of Scandinavian blond hair that matched his own shade exactly?

Why had he ever gone out with her? She was so like Karen that it was eerie.

 _Sex._ It always came down to that. He'd seen her up there on the stage, dressed in the raunchy finery of sexpot Sally Bowles and had nearly deserted his date Christine at the stage door. That night, Starsky ended up with Christine, and Hutch had seduced Melanie in the back of the Torino.

Melanie was great in bed — a screamer. And unless she was a damned good actress, she was more than satisfied with Hutch as a lover.

Therein lay the problem. Hutch wasn't satisfied. And hadn't been for a long time. Since before Melanie, maybe even before Christine.

No, strike that — he'd been dating Christine when the —- what the hell did he call them -- Urges? Desires? Longings? -- for Starsky's sturdy, very masculine frame entered his head. And that was by no means the first time. Once in his car, during a stakeout. That time they'd gone to the beach with two flight attendants and ended up on their own when the girls had to work an earlier flight. The night of the marathon Monopoly game, two weeks after Terry's death, when Starsky had curled up against him, sweetly sad, and half in the bottle. Hutch had snuggled Starsky up close, and the embarrassing thought that this would be so much better if they were both naked had crossed his mind.

 _Shit,_ he was doomed.

"I told Annie we'd all go to Zim's," Starsky answered, solving the problem neatly. "I'm starvin' for one of their avocado burgers."

"Plain salad for me, or I'll never fit into my costumes," Melanie said, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss Hutch on the lips.

He bent into her kiss, finding himself strangely distracted by the proximity of his partner. Melanie's lips were slick from her lip gloss and tasted faintly of sour apple. She always breathed deeply into his mouth, her tongue darting out to tease his, and she had amazing staying power, latching on like a sucker fish draining him dry.

What would Starsky's lips feel like?

"We'll never get a table if you two are going to keep at it much longer," Starsky said.

"Annie and me are leaving!"

"Bye, Melanie! I put the bag you left in my car on the make-up table," Annie called, coming out of the dressing room she shared with Melanie and two other women.

Hutch pulled back with a gasp, steadying himself on Melanie, who looked oddly predatory. Starsky had his arm slung low around Annie's trim waist and was already half out the door.

"I'm hungry," Hutch said, avoiding the flash of annoyance in Melanie's eyes. She really did look like Karen always did when Ken, as the older brother, got privileges that she hadn't.

"Well, I'm not." Melanie stood her ground, not moving. "I had something more romantic in mind."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Hutch stifled his irritation. It shouldn't be this way. He should want to spend the next hour holed up in her dressing room, curled around her skinny body. His heart sank just thinking about it.

"Because I thought you'd get the hint!" Melanie snapped. "Do I have to spell things out here, Ken? We see each other every night at rehearsal, but afterward, a girl expects some kind of special treatment. Not going over lines and then the big heave-ho and good-night."

"Mel, I get up at six am for a seven-thirty shift," Hutch rubbed the growing headache between his eyebrows. He should have followed Starsky. "I work over eight hours most days, and then come here to rehearse. I'm worn out."

"Well, you should have thought of that when you tried out!" She crossed her arms over her bust, giving herself an illusion of cleavage. Melanie even had a special padded bra to accentuate the curves of her opening scene evening dress. Hutch had seen her in it — and out of it. "I thought this would be a blast, both of us in the same show. Then you spend all your time with Dave!"

"He's my partner." Hutch set his jaw. No, Melanie wasn't his sister, she was his mother, hurling taunts at his father the year before they divorced. "Mel, let's not fight over this right now, huh? Can't we just get a burger in peace?"

"Sorry, I had other plans. In my dressing room." She spit out every word as if they were poison. "A big leafy salad, with organic tomatoes, Greek olives, wheat germ and goat's milk feta, and a whole bottle of Zinfandel. Guess I'll just drink it myself." Melanie whirled around, blond locks snapping in her personal wind, and stalked off. "Alone!" she hurled over her shoulder.

Dazed, Hutch wandered out onto the loading dock of the build shop, staring at the overcast sky over the ocean. It had rained for days, and for some inexplicable reason, he wanted to get soaked. Naturally, the weather didn't cooperate, the gray clouds scuttling across the horizon as if late for some storm in another county.

Damn, that had gone about as badly as possible. How was he going to manage sharing the stage with her now that she hated his guts? Should he go apologize or just face facts? Melanie was not the girl for him.

 _There is nothin' you can name that is anything like a dame...we feel lonely, we feel blue...we feel every kind of feeling but the feelin' of relief..._

Relief. Hutch blew out a noisy breath. He was relieved that she was gone. So what next?

Pretend that his feelings for Starsky were nothing more than friendship? Or confront his best friend and invite him over to rehearse some out-of-character scene blocking?

"Waiting for a the next boat out, Lt. Cable?" Starsky called out.

"What are you doing here?" Hutch looked down at Starsky on the parking lot below him, and relief was definitely not the feeling that washed over him.

 _Lust._ That was the word.

Pure lust.

 _Oh, God, he was going to puke._

"Got a vibe," Starsky waggled his fingers in the air as if catching something intangible out of the cosmos. "Ever since Callandra I've been tryin' to harness my mental powers."

"Strain yourself?" Hutch asked lightly, crossing his legs to hide the evidence swelling his groin. "I thought you didn't believe in all that mumbo-jumbo."

"Don't for the most part." Starsky climbed up onto the high shelf of the loading dock, dropping a bag into Hutch's lap. "'Cept where it concerns a certain blond detective I know. Then I see all."

"What'd you see?" Hutch peered into the bag, the aroma of freshly grilled burgers and french fries making him salivate.

"That you and Melanie weren't headin' off to Bali Catalina for a tryst in the sand." Starsky plunged a hand into the bag, pulling out a bunch of fries. He ate two and poked two more into Hutch's mouth. "Besides, Annie told me Melanie was heading for D-day."

Hutch chewed and swallowed, trying to retain some remnant of the sensible, logical man he'd always been. That having Starsky sitting next to him didn't make him want to plant a big one right on those luscious lips.

 _Lots of things in life are beautiful, but brother, there is one thing that is nothin' whatsoever in any way, shape or form like any other..._

"Starsky," Hutch said aloud, and almost choked on the hamburger he'd bitten into.

"She wants a ring, Hutch, in the worst way," Starsky continued. "Annie said that she and Melanie went out window shopping at the bridal shop this morning. Melanie claims you're the one. And it doesn't take any ESP to know that wedding-phobic Hutchinson would..."

"Starsky." Hutch didn't think that time. Didn't let logic enter into it. The sun broke out from behind the clouds, shining spotlights over the palm trees on the shore of the Pacific ocean, while sea gulls wheeled and called above them. There could have been Polynesian dancing girls for all Hutch knew. He felt the power of Bali Hai take over, and kissed his partner.

There was a moment of pure stillness threaded through with absolute bliss, but then Hutch had second thoughts. Starsky hadn't reacted in any way. Hadn't kissed him back, but hadn't pulled away in horror either. Terrified that he'd wrecked everything, Hutch gasped, scrambling up from his perch.

"Starsk, I'm sorry — momentary aberration, it won't happen..."

"Hutch." Starsky latched a hand around his ankle to keep him in one place and tugged him back down. "That had better happen again."

Now he was confused. Starsky liked the kiss? Hutch looked into those dear blue eyes the color of some exotic orchid growing only on a special island where the sky met the sea, and saw his partner's heart.

"Again?" Hutch whispered stupidly. "Froggie's in the build shop."

"You should have thought of that before." Starsky slipped his hand around Hutch's neck, threading his fingers through the short hairs there at the back, and pulled him close. They kissed, lingering on the feel of lips pressing against lips and breath mingling into one to make this one last forever. "This isn't what you were worried about before, is it?"

"Huh?" Hutch had lost half of his brain cells on the second kiss, but he was willing to forfeit his entire brain to go for a third.

"You said you'd made a colossal mistake." Starsky seemed content to parcel out the kisses at intervals and went back to munching french fries as if he had all the time in the world.

"No, no." Hutch laughed self consciously, still having a hard time catching up with Starsky's easy acceptance. He'd been thinking about Starsky — _kissing Starsky,_ Starsky naked, Starsky touching his cock -- all during rehearsal, and Starsky just calmly kissed him and ate french fries as if nothing monumental had just happened. His dumb-founded confusion turned abruptly to frustration and then something else that felt oddly like anger. "Doesn't this..." he'd started to say bother you but changed his mind. "Astound you?"

"Astound?" Starsky tipped his head, a small smile playing across those kissable lips as if he knew secrets Hutch couldn't even fathom. "It makes sense to me. That you and me . . ." He wagged his thumb and pinkie between them, linking them together. "'S'like we're joined at the hip, Hutch. You ever thought about it before? I mean before today?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Me, too," Starsky admitted, and blushed.

Hutch adored that blush. That what he had done had broken down the walls of Starsky's me-macho attitude, made him vulnerable and open was worth it. "You have? Then what about . . ." He was almost afraid to invoke the name, that it would shatter this perfect contentment. "Terry?"

"I loved her," Starsky said simply. "I've loved you longer."

"Loved you since we made detectives."

"I made detective first," Starsky countered, tossing french fries at him.

"By a couple of days, because old Captain Martin was on vacation." Hutch impulsively leaned forward and caught Starsky's lips in mid-laugh, tasting the salt and potato flavor of the kiss.

Starsky peppered him with kisses, then hiccupped, hanging onto Hutch like a drowning victim, his voice shuddering. "I wanted to make a life with Terry. Have babies, the whole nine yards. That's not gonna happen...and deep down inside, where I hide stuff, I had this other plan." He retreated, picking up his burger and taking a pensive bite. "I used to wonder about kissing you. Not every day, but late at night, different times. Never when I was with a girl, but I'd watch you with a girl." He tucked a fry under the bun of his burger and ate the combination. "That time I was shot last year? I thought you would kiss me right there on the floor before you went out to mop up the bad guys."

"I almost did. Then you ruined it with all that talk about capped teeth."

"Had to keep you on your toes." Starsky grinned, all puckish joy. "Then you regretted Melanie."

There was no question, it was a statement of fact.

"Why do I do that? Just go after the sex?" Hutch smacked the cement. "Blew off Christine that night, leaving you to pick up the pieces, and I didn't even think about . . ."

"There's love and there's sex," Starsky said. "Sometimes they go together and sometimes they don't. Sometimes you confuse one for the other, and sometimes you can love two people at the same time." He looked down at Hutch's erection that had persisted despite all indications that it was not getting any anytime soon, and quirked a smile. "I'll never regret Terry, Hutch. She's got her own special place in my heart, but you kinda stole the rest."

"I'm a cop, I don't steal." Hutch held up the Boy Scout salute. "I just take what's already mine."

Starsky kissed him quick and stood up, a twinkle in his eye. "You know why Annie told me all about Melanie?"

"No, but you're obviously going to tell me."

"Annie will be thrilled if you're off the market, 'cause she's had her eye on Melanie since the first day of rehearsal." Starsky chortled, cleaning up the remains of their picnic.

"Annie and Melanie. Will never work." Hutch shook his head, stunned that so much had altered in such a short space of time. He and Starsky, a couple! Annie and Melanie. He couldn't imagine them together, and not because they were both women. The two were total opposites. Melanie, blondly pretty with a tendency for arch comments and superiority, and sweet, funny Annie who hid a quick wit behind her guileless blue eyes.

"You think we will?" Starsky looked up and pointed. The cast was returning from Zim's, all boisterous and eager for the first full run-through of South Pacific.

"We will," Hutch vowed.

"Some enchanted evening!" Starsky belted out, waving to the cast to join in as they clamored into the building. "You will find your true love... "

"And you'll hear her call you across a crowded room!" responded the actor playing Emile, in his elegant voice.

"Some enchanted evening!" chorused other cast members, coming in a beat late.

"Then fly to his side," Hutch sang, "And make him your own!" He looked down at Starsky, diving into those laughing eyes, and knew what he'd known for years. This was where he belonged. This was who he belonged with. There would probably be bumps and hurdles along the way, because Hutch had no faith in perfect happiness, but for this day he had found his own special island.

"Once you have found him, never let him go!" Starsky warbled, and squeezed Hutch's hand, just once before running to catch up with some of the other Seabees.

"Once you have found him, never let him go," Hutch echoed.

Fin


End file.
